Dad had a hard night last night. Apparently since he isn’t eating anymore and he’s started watering down his Ensure he can’t lay flat because the liquid in his stomach backs up into his esophagus. He’s trying to figure out how to deal with that. He’s going to try to drink an Ensure that isn’t watered down. Hopefully that will help him.
Sundays are interesting. They are a time when I get to be alone with dad, but it’s also a time where I am put in a position to watch preaching on TV. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I would imagine it makes dad feel good to see me “actively” listening to what is being said. I do that for him, but once he’s shuffled off, I’ll go back to “out of sight, out of mind”.
How do I feel when I’m with dad? I’m not sure. It’s strange that when I’m in the “situation” with dad I’m not feeling much. I guess I’ve put insulation caps on the ends of my nerves that prevent me from feeling much when I’m there. I just sort of go about my time with him as if it’s just another day. Really it is, you can’t visit with dad and be all sad and twisted externally. You have to treat him as if it’s all going to be alright. So that’s what I do. I try not to look too deeply at him and wonder what he’s thinking or feeling. That usually gets me all stirred up inside. I also have a tendency to glance over at him from time to time to make sure he’s still with us… I’ve noticed mom does the same thing. When I’m saying goodbye to him I have to resist the urge to say “goodbye” in such a way that might cause me to fall apart. I haven’t leaned over and kissed him on his forehead yet like most people do. I usually just gently squeeze his knee and rub his foot. I’ll do the forehead thing when it’s merited, just not now… When I leave, it usually doesn’t hit me till I get home. Then it comes to me in a form of panic. My chest will tighten, and my breathing becomes shallow. I guess the insulation caps twist off and leave my nerves raw and frayed. I’m usually a bear to be around when I’m like that. I just tend to close the door and keep to myself till it passes. I don’t like for people to see me cry, it’s just not something I’m comfortable with. So you can imagine the dread I am feeling when it comes time to stand at the front during visitation after dad’s funeral. That’s like torture to me. Why do they do that? The visitation part…
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